


The Meddling in International Affairs Job

by avulle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Leverage
Genre: Gen, Really not that much more than an idle drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 18:01:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6294289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avulle/pseuds/avulle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Leverage team are made aware of Voldemort's existence.  This goes about as well for Voldemort as you'd expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All members of the Leverage team are magical, but live primarily as muggles.
> 
> Pretty much 100% of the reason I wrote this was because I kind of wanted an excuse to espouse my personal headcanons on the various magical and muggle governments of the world, and Nathan Ford is always up for a good bit of exposition.
> 
> Also: Let's go steal us a war.

“Yes, you see the British magical government doesn't much care for the American magical community in general—we're all muggleborns, convicts, and squibs, if you go back far enough—and believe me, the British do.

“The feeling's mutual, of course, so the Americans have never gone out of their way to help the British Magicals—they knew about Voldemort, back in the 80s when he was at his worst, but they let him lie. The same can be said of every other magical government in Europe—they have all failed to mend bridges and create the alliances their muggle counterparts have.

“And, of course, every European magical government is estranged from its magical counterpart. They were all around for the original statute of secrecy, and that sting has never quite worn off.

“But the United States is different—we're young enough that our magical and muggle governments grew in tandem, and they're tied into one another at every level. We have magical divisions of our army, and have had them since the revolution—

“Our first president was a squib, after all.

“Now, the American muggle government is allied with the British muggle government, and the American magical government more or less _is_ the American muggle government, but the United States will not interfere with a domestic skirmish."

“So?” Eliot leaned back, idly tapping his wand against his knee. “What do you want us to do?"

Nate grinned wide, all teeth on display.

“Well, the United States wouldn't be able to ignore a war. We're going to go convince the death eaters to declare war on muggle Britain.”

Hardison nods.

“And then the United States will be required to go to war, and—”

“And the magical corps will be forced to enter the fray," Eliot finishes. “To say nothing of the ordinary army—there's no shield spell that can stop a bullet."

“Voldemort is powerful, but no one man can stand against army,” Nate says. “All of his power is political, drawing on pureblood prejudice to find his war—”

“And that is one prejudice the United States has never suffered from," Sophie said from where she was curled up on the couch beside him.

Nate smiles.

“Let's go steal us a war."

 

“Hello, Tom."

Voldemort spins, wand already in his hand—

“Avada Kedavra!"

Green light crashes into stone.

“That's cute,” the voice continues, as Voldemort searches furiously for the source of the voice.

“Where are you?” he cries out into the darkness.

A hearty chuckle echoes in the darkness.

“That's the thing about you Tom—” the voice continues, “—you may well be the greatest wizard in the world—maybe even the greatest wizard the world has ever seen—”

Hidden all around Voldemort are tiny speakers, hidden between the cracks in the stone, powered by impressively tiny muggle batteries and running off of a Wi-Fi network that has been up and running for five months without a single soul noticing its presence.

“—but your prejudice blinds you to what is right before your eyes." The entire room shakes, and Voldemort roars out in frustration.

“Maybe," the voice says, “if you had paid a little more attention to the muggle side of your parentage, this wouldn't have happened this way." A smile colors the voice as it continues—“they outnumber us 1000 to 1, Tom. Did you really think you could win?"

The walls shake, and the sound of machine gun fire sounds from above.

“Now, before you die, Tom—and trust me, you _will_ die—I want you to know who it was that did this to you. My name is Nathan Ford, and I'm a muggleborn. My father's name was James Ford, and my mother's was Celia Anderson. I married a muggle, and I haven't used a wand in thirty years. I am half a step away from a squib, and Tom, I want you to know—”

Men bursts through the doorway at the end of the hall, their faces guarded by riot shields, fully automatic weapons loaded against their shoulders.

“I defeated you as a _muggle_."

Voldemort twists his wand, bringing the walls closed around him, but the air erupts with gunfire, and the walls do not quite move fast enough.

The walls stagger, and in that instant of vulnerability, a single grenade slips between them in an underhand throw.

“Nathan Ford," Tom Riddle curses half an instant before the grenade explodes, and splatters him across his own transfigured walls.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone was wondering how they got the job.

“Eliot, I want to warn you against unnecessary acts of aggression."

“What are you talking about, Nate?" Eliot responds, looking affronted. “I only use violence as an appropriate response."

“Hello, Nate."

Eliot is suddenly on his feet, fist cocked, but Sterling is halfway across the room with his hand pointed at his throat

“I'm afraid I have some very bad news."

His face is deadly serious, and Eliot hesitates.

Nate frowns before gesturing for Sterling to take a seat.

Sterling slowly closes the distance between them.

Eliot stands stiffly to the side, his hands clenched tightly into fists.

Sterling gives him a brief look before taking a seat.

He turns to Nate, takes a deep breath, and then says—

“Voldemort has returned.”

For a moment, there is complete silence—

Then the glass that slipped from Nate’s hand slams noisily into the table, and a chair clatters noisily as Eliot collapses into it.

“ _Excuse_ me?” Hardison asks from halfway across the bar—from altogether too far to have heard Sterling’s resigned voice (from altogether too far for Sterling to have heard his surprised squawk) “Did you just say—”

“Yes,” Sterling says simply.

Another beat of silence.

“ _Shit_.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

Another beat, before—

“Whose Voldemort?”

All heads present spin to Parker, and she glances awkwardly around at them.

“What.”

Nate sighs, pushing himself up.

“Okay.” He looks at the five faces turned towards him. He opens his mouth, then closes it again. “Let’s take this upstairs.”


End file.
